And Hell Followed With Him
by chelseahalliday
Summary: The Story told from the point of view of my OC Charlie, as well as two extra characters I created. Set during Season 1. Charlie comes across Ricks group in Atlanta, and to escape from the city, she is forced to trust a new group of people. I do not own The Walking Dead, and I only own the characters, Charlie, Brandon and Mark.


I awoke to gunshots.

I jerked upright, from where I had fallen asleep on the roof, my gun still clasped in my hand. I had no idea which direction the shots were coming from, and I had no intention of investigating. I knew what was down there, and I knew that if I even tried to go down there, I'd probably be killed. My guess that the gunshots were of some stupid sucker trying to get out of Atlanta, and judging by the sound of the gunshots they weren't doing a great job. Atlanta was lost to the infection a long time ago and completely overrun by the infected. The smart thing was to leave when the whole thing started, but somehow word got around that Atlanta was safe, that the military had secured it, that medical facilities were treating people successfully; a whole list of lies that just got more people seeking salvation killed. The only way I've survived this long in Atlanta was because I got here early, before everything had completely gone to shit, and by dumb luck, really. Finding a gun and learning how to use it helped as well. I managed to scrounge up enough supplies, and fortified this apartment block. Ever since then I've been keeping an eye on the city.

I looked over to my radio, which surely couldn't have much battery power left, and considered turning it on. I had refrained from using it when all I got was bad news. I knew everything had gone to shit when I started to get no news. I looked around, and saw Mark slouched over, still fast asleep, his shotgun resting by his side. The gunshots hadn't woken him, and I briefly wondered how he'd survived so long when he was such a heavy sleeper. I rolled my eyes, and reached for the radio, temptation getting the better of me.

I flicked the radio on and held it up to my ear. For a few minutes I heard nothing but static, I was about ready to turn the stupid thing off, when a voice came through loud and clear.

_"I'm on my way back. I got a guest."_

The voice startled me, making me almost drop the radio in surprise. I looked at the radio, waiting for the voice to continue. I could've believed that I imagined it, if the voice didn't speak again.

_"Plus four geeks in the alley."_

My stomach did a backflip as the voice came through loud and clear once again. "Mark!" I shouted his name just loud enough to wake him. He shot up, panicked at first and fumbled for the shotgun.

"Jesus, Lil. You gave me a heart attack." He said, stretching and rubbing his neck.

I quickly silenced him as I thrust the radio towards him. He looked at me confused for a moment, before shaking his head.

"There's no one out there, we're the only survivors left in the city. Just leave it." He said darkly.

I rolled my eyes, and held out the radio to him again, more purposefully.

"I heard someone, just now. A group maybe, in Atlanta."

Mark just stared at me for a second, disbelieving.

"Bullshit."

He grabbed the radio from me and held it up, but only static continued to spill out the speaker.

"Are you absolutely sure you heard someone?"

He looked at me urgently, his eyes pleading. I knew him well enough to know that despite him acting like he didn't care, I could tell he was desperate to know that the entire world wasn't in the shitter.

Instead of answering I snatched the radio back, and began speaking.

"Can you hear me?" when I heard nothing but static I tried again, "Is anybody there?"

Nothing came through, and I cursed in frustration. The radio had a burst of static and then crackled loudly.

_"Hello? Is someone there?" _the voice was different to the one I had heard earlier, it was now a woman speaking.

Mark and I exchanged looks of excitement, and I fumbled with the radio in my eagerness to reply.

"Yes! We're on the roof of an apartment building in the city. Where are you?" I replied enthusiastically, thrilled to hear someone other than the same two voices.

There was a slight pause, and then the radio crackled again

_"We're in a department store, towards the North side of the city_."

Mark jumped up, and jogged to the door leading to the stairwell.

"Hey! Brandon! Get up here" he yelled, probably a bit too loudly, but he didn't realise and I didn't really care.

I got up and headed to the North side of the building, trying to see if I could see the building she was talking about. I couldn't pinpoint what building she was in, or even if it was close. But at least I knew what direction, she and possibly other survivors were.

"I don't think I can see the building" I said loudly into the receiver.

"_That's okay, maybe we can get to you somehow."_ She replied after a short pause.

My heart began thumping wildly; maybe we'd get off this god forsaken roof finally. Maybe there were more survivors, and maybe, just maybe, we all weren't as fucked as we originally thought.

I heard hurried footsteps coming up the stairwell, and on any other day I'd have chastised Brandon or Mark for making so much noise. Brandon appeared, mostly looking annoyed, but a hint of worry behind his eyes. He was about to say something, but I cut him off as I replied to the woman.

"Do you know the name of the department store you're in? Or any other details about where you are?" I wanted to find where they were, and how far away they were.

There was silence on the other side, and no reply came through. The three of us all stood staring at the receiver, waiting for anything. All we got was more silence and some static.

"_Shit._" I muttered under my breath.

Suddenly a loud gunshot rang out, and then another, and another. I whipped around, trying to pinpoint where on the ground it came from. I then realised that the gunshots weren't coming from the ground like I thought, they were coming from a roof a couple buildings away from this one.

"What the fuck is that jackass doing?" Mark squinted at the rooftop.

My eyes scanned the roof until they locked onto a large man standing on the edge of the roof, firing at the ground below, picking off the infected.

I held the radio to my lips once again, and spoke grimly.

"Are you anywhere near the guy shooting on the rooftop?"

Brandon looked at me surprised; obviously the same thought had just occurred to him.

"Do you think the other survivors, are with _him_?" he pointed at the man, who was stilling firing wildly into the streets below.

Then the voice burst out of the radio again, in reply to my question.

"_Yes- we are in that building-" _the transmission cut off, trailing into static.

"Oh, shit something's happening over there." Brandon pointed out drawing our attention to the roof.

There seemed to be a fight breaking out between the man and another bunch of people that just burst through the doors. Although we couldn't tell the fine details of what was going on, we knew it wasn't a casual friendly encounter between people. The man who was standing on the roof was getting handcuffed to a pipe railing by some guy who looked like a cop. So the only other group of survivors we've seen for weeks seemed to want to kill each other. Great.

"Do we really want to get mixed up with other survivors, especially an unpredictable group like that? They look dangerous, guys." Brandon grabbed my arm tightly, making me wince. I shook his hand off, annoyed.

"Well, we could stay here, eventually we'll run out of food to scavenge, or get infected. Granted, that could happen anywhere we hole up. But with a bigger group, it gives us more cover, and more security."

I quickly held my hand up to stop Brandon from interrupting,

"I know they seem pretty dangerous, but they have guns; lots by the sound of it. We've got three. And less ammunition. I think our chances are better in a bigger group. But we should all agree."

I looked at Mark, as we'd often backed each other in the past when making decisions. He nodded.

"I agree with Lil. A bigger group with guns like that can offer better security." He paused for a moment before continuing

"And I've been thinking, they mustn't live in that building, or else we would have heard them or seen them before, right? So, maybe they live somewhere else; somewhere safer than the city."

I didn't think of this, but it made sense. A big group like that wouldn't survive running through the city together, and we'd surely come across them, or some trace of them in the buildings we've been through. Me and Mark looked at Brandon, knowing that he'd agree with us, because it really was the better option. He looked at both of us before throwing his hands up.

"Shit. Alright. Radio them again, and find out what the fuck they're doing. Gather your shit together; we might have to leave in a hurry."

My stomach did a backflip. Only mere minutes ago, I was fast asleep, and my options were pretty bleak. Now we were doing something. Something that could actually help us survive this, but then again it might not. More than a flicker of doubt crossed my mind, and I had to think whether or not this was the right thing to do. Not just for myself but for Mark and Brandon. Mark was a strong willed guy, and he knew how to take care of himself. He'd survived by himself for a while before Brandon and I ran into him. But on the other hand, Brandon being the youngest of us maybe had something to do with it, had always let me and Mark make the hard decisions, and he'd never take any necessary risks getting supplies or guns. I looked at Brandon and hoped I made the right decision.

I grabbed my backpack, and slung it on my back. I kept my food supplies, ammunition, water, and any other items I didn't want to share with the others. Whenever we went out to scavenge, whatever we individually found, we kept. Occasionally, we'd share when supplies were low, just so we didn't have to leave the security of our building. I slung it on my back, and feeling how light on supplies it was, I felt like we were making the right decision.

Brandon quickly ran down the stairwell, to grab his share of the scarce supplies. As soon as he and disappeared out of view, Mark grabbed me by the arm.

"Look, we have to be very careful from here on-"

"You think I don't know this?" I quickly cut him off, and shook my arm. He gripped me tighter, and kept talking, his voice got lower and more hurried. I saw him take a sideways glance at the stairwell.

"_Don't_ interrupt. I'm just saying that we need to look after ourselves, at all costs to get out of the city safely." All in a second, I understood what he was saying. The hushed tones, the way he was watching the stairwell gave him away immediately. I felt myself recoil from him.

"We're_ not_ leaving him behind." I stared at Mark in disbelief.

"I'm not saying that. I'm saying that we need to make sure that we don't lose our chance of getting out of the city, so we need to be careful. That's all I'm saying."

I took a step back from him.

"I know exactly what you were saying. We're not leaving him, and that's final."

Mark seemed to tower over me at this moment, and it took everything I had to stand my ground, and not take another step back. I'd never seen this look in his eyes before, even with all the shit we'd been through and it scared the hell out of me.

He turned away and reloaded his gun, making sure he had a full clip. I watched him out the corner of my eye as he packed his backpack.

Brandon came running up the stairs backpack in hand, oblivious to what had just happened in the brief seconds he was gone. He looked at us nervously.

"ar-are we really doing this?"

I looked over to Mark who stood tall, armed with his handgun and his rifle slung over his shoulder.

I flicked the safety off my gun, and adjusted my backpack.

"It's now or never."


End file.
